This Bright But Painful World
by Unholy-Existence
Summary: Everyone deals with loss in different ways. Though it was almost three years since his boyfriend Alfred had passed away, Arthur still couldn't come to terms with his death. As Alfred's birthday approached, Arthur spiraled into depression, trapped in a world filled with pills and memories. Can anyone reach Arthur before it's too late, or will he perish by Loss's cold hand?
1. Chapter 1

__**This is a new story I've been working on. It's supposed to be pretty sad, so I apologize in advance. It's mild UsUk. Rated T for language and (unspecified and unexplicit) drug use. **

_"I miss you."_

_"I miss you too."_

_"When can I see you again?"_

_"…"_

_"Hello?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"But… it should be soon, right? I mean you've been drafted for a while now. So it has to be soon."_

_"I don't know. I hope so, but *static* I can't be sure. We're on a mission right now, actually. I should probably be getting off – "_

_"W-Wait a second. You just got on, you can't just leave. Not yet. Please."_

_"I know. I'm so sorry. I have to go."_

_"…Okay. I understand."_

_"Hey, hey. It'll be okay, alright? I'll come back safe and sou- *A loud boom. Static.*"_

_"Hello? Hello?"_

_"*static*"_

_"Hello? _Alfred? _Hello? Al?!"_

_"*static*"_

_"Hello?!"_

_"*static*"_

_" …"_

Arthur Kirkland lay in his bed, turmoil running through his mind. His trembling slowly subsided, and he let out a small whimper. Tomorrow was _his _birthday. He could do it. Of course he could.

The alarm clock flashed 9:38. Relatively early for most, but Arthur hadn't slept in three days. His body was abuzz, needing desperately to sleep, but his mind refused to rest. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. The raw agony of it all was burned into his very soul. Each breath he took was like a knife stabbing his chest. The previous two birthdays, it hadn't felt this bad. But now it felt real. It was unavoidable; a searing sort of pain that he couldn't run from. Lately, he didn't want to run.

_Up_. His mind told him. _You gotta get up. C'mon. _Sleep felt like it was going to overcome him, and he refused to allow it. Slowly, Arthur rolled off the bed and stood up. He walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle. Arthur's hands fumbled to open the tightly sealed cap. They shook so much he dropped the bottle, and had to bend over to retrieve it.

_Open! _He thought with just a bit of hysteria. _Open, damn it! _His hands slipped and struggled to open the cap. He felt weaker than ever. _How long has it been since I…_? The thought slid away from him once he finally managed to open the bottle. A few large black pills slide out. He counted out four, and then gulped them down with a small cupped handful of water. They ached wonderfully against his throat. He felt a huge sense of relief. That done, he staggered back into the bedroom. Arthur hadn't taken five steps when the phone rang.

The sound was like a tazer to his heart, lightning straight in his brain. Arthur froze, unmoving. His frail chest heaved desperately. After an eternity of rings, he inched his way over to the phone and picked it up. "H-Hello?" He stammered, trying with all his might to make it sound normal. In the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a shadow move.

"Hey Arthur. Sorry. It's not too late?" It took a long moment for Arthur to register that voice. It was Francis.

'Nah, nah. It's okay." Arthur tried to keep the tremor out of his voice. Any minute now and the pills would kick in.

"Good. I- I was just calling to see if you were all right. Because of…well..." Francis sounded unsure.

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm good. I know." Arthur shrugged, though Francis couldn't see him. His brain was still trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. "It's cool."

"You sure you're okay? Tomorrow is his birthday. And I know that lately you haven't been feeling well…"

"Fine. Totally cool." Arthur replied sluggishly. The pills were starting to work. His brain moved a little faster, and everything seemed brighter.

Francis was quiet for a moment. "Yeah." He was silent again. Then when he spoke his voice was hesitant. "So…tomorrow…how long would you have been…?"

"Ten years." Ten, ten, ten, ten. Ten flowers on the wall, ten children would all fall. Ten colors in the rainbow. Ten fires in the bush, ten pills to pop, ten people to drop. Ten colors in the crayon box. Ten sheep in the herd. Ten flies buzzing all around, ten decaying bodies on the ground. Ten. His mind finally came back. They would have been together for ten years.

"Oh." Francis said.

"Yeah." Arthur replied. His mind felt energized. The tiredness was gone mostly now, though he could still feel it in his joints.

"I'm sorry." Francis said softly.

"'S fine. Fine. Whatever." Arthur said, smiling slightly. Ahh, the pills were working now.

Francis was quiet again. "Tomorrow…um…tomorrow we were thinking about going to see Alfred's grave. Y'know, just grab everybody and go? Would…would you want to do that?"

"Sure. Why not?" The colors on the wall were so pretty. _Focus_. He chided himself. F-O-C-U-S. He mouthed it silently. "F-O-C-U-S."

"What?" Francis asked.

"Sure, I said. Sure." Arthur replied.

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean it. Have you been eating and sleeping lately?"

Arthur didn't respond. He stared at the shadows and the colors and wished he could dissolve.

"Arthur? Have you?"

He was silent. He thought it would be nice to just dissolve into thin air, just vanish with the snap of a finger.

"Arthur, _please _answer me." Francis' voice turned pleading. "_Please_. Are you okay? Have you been eating?"

"Yeah, I've been eating 'n sleeping." Arthur replied finally. He lifted up his shirt curiously and stared at his stomach. Sharp bubbles of fat poked out right above his bellybutton, on both sides. He sniggered. He was fat, fat, fat.

"I don't know if I believe you. I'm coming over." Francis said.

"No way. I'm fine, wanker. I'm cool." Arthur said a bit hastily. He was still staring at his fat.

"You sure."

"Yeah. Jeeesus, it's almost 10:00. Can I go to bed now or are you gonna keep me up like the jerk you are?" He had no intention to go to bed any time in the near future, or even in the distant future. He would stay up forever. Arthur just wanted Francis to stop talking.

"Fine. I'll let you go." Francis replied. "I'm coming over in the morning, though. I'll be there at 9:30 so be ready."

Arthur hung up. He twirled over to the bed and sat on it, snickering a little. There were faint pangs of sadness that wanted to worm their way into his brain, but he wouldn't let them. He wanted to stay in this beautiful, beautiful world of color for as long as possible. Arthur flopped on the bed, lolling his head so that it faced his clock once more.

10:00. 10:01. 10:02. 10:47. Numbers floated around and he tried to catch them. Time slipped easily through his fingers. At exactly 11:02, his mind dulled and he grew bored with watching the numbers. Before he could stop it, he felt himself starting to drift into memory.

_His bright, dazzling blue eyes stared at him playfully. They were 16. He had a huger grin on his face than usual._

_ "What are you thinking about?" Arthur inquired. He had his own teasing smile on his face._

_ "What're we gonna do when we hit the decade mark?" Alfred had asked._

_ "Huh?" Arthur said blankly. "Ten years?"_

_ "Yup. So what are we going to do?" _

_ "We've barely been together for two years. Why the hell are you thinking about ten already? At least focus on five." Arthur replied._

_ Alfred shook his head. "Five is such a boring number. It's stupid. We need to start planning our ten year anniversary."_

_ "I dunno." Arthur said. "What do you have in mind?" They sat on a bench. Alfred licked his chocolate ice cream cone thoughtfully._

_ "Well…" He replied in a slow, contemplating tone that was so very unlike him. "I know I want to have some of this." He nodded at his ice cream._

_ Arthur groaned. "Really? Eat too much and you'll die. Then I'll be so depressed."_

_ "No! I mean, I want some ice cream because it's good. Then after that I guess…I want to go out to Disney Land."_

_ "Disney Land at 24?" Arthur rolled his eyes._

_ "Hell yeah! It's got Harry Potter for you, and Mickey Mouse for me." Alfred grinned. Arthur scowled at that unrealistic comment, and Alfred kissed him lightly on the forehead. Arthur's scowl vanished and he sighed warily._

_ "Okay. That sounds like a decent idea." He admitted. _

_ "I'm not the only one picking. You gotta pick too." _

_ "What do I want to do…?" Arthur repeated. "I think I'd like to go to the library and get __**Catcher in the Rye**__, just because I know you hate it. Then I'd spend all day reading it and ignoring you. I'd –"_

_ "Read it in the car." Alfred finished with a grimace._

_ "– On the amusement rides –"_

_ "– On the airplane –"_

_ "– Next to some creepy old lady –" _

_ "– who has a cat in her purse – "_

_ "– And is reading __**Fifty Shades of Gray **__–"_

_ "– While she's listening to 50 cent –"_

_ "– And on the amusement ride –"_

_ "– You'd drop the book –"_

_ "– And it'd land on Donald's head –"_

_ "– And give him a concussion –"_

_ "– he'd become bloody mental –"_

_ "– And go on a killing spree –"_

_ "– the end." Arthur finished. They both started laughing. This was something they did often, creating scenarios that probably wouldn't happen just to amuse themselves._

_ "I want that…I totally want that to happen!" Alfred choked between fits of laughter._

_ Arthur smiled and shook his head. "Fat chance, love. Though the old woman reading __**Fifty Shades **__is probable enough."_

_ "Yeah, okay." Alfred gasped, struggling to maintain a stern expression. "Seriously, though. What do you want to happen?"_

_ Arthur's smile faded. He felt very cheesy for saying this, but it was honestly true. "I just want to be with you." He muttered, his face going a little red. "Sure, we can go to Disney Land, and maybe after that a museum or something to get all the sugar-coated happiness out of my system, but aside from that…" He trailed off and stared at his lap. _

_ Alfred's face lit up. He was so bright Arthur couldn't look him in the eye. "Sure! We can hang out the entire day! I promise!" _

_ "You don't have to promise anything. Idiot."_

_ "No way! That's a promise, 'kay?" Alfred insisted._

_ Arthur smiled faintly, feeling Alfred's arm wrap around his shoulder. "Okay." _


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this is chapter two. It should go into a little more detail about what's going on. If you have any questions, just ask! I don't own Hetalia!**

When the memories finally subsided, it was 9:15 in the morning. The pills had long since worn off, and Arthur was feeling even more haggard than he had been. He groaned quietly, the blanket over his head to shield him from the sun's rays. He had longed for that bright world just hours ago, but now he wanted to succumb to the darkness. _Liar. _Arthur thought, his empty stomach clenching in pain. _Liar! Liar! _Another low moan escaped him. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to just lie down and whither away. There was a loud ringing in his ears. _Liar! You bloody liar!_ He curled up into a tight ball. Anger made his vision blur, and he was trembling violently under the covers, cold hands clenched into fists. The anger gave way to agony, and he bit his lip. _Happy birthday._ He thought, his mind a dead, ugly thing that he wanted to get rid of. _Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear…_ Arthur shook his head and didn't continue. He had a pounding headache. He refused to acknowledge that it was supposed to be their tenth anniversary. Doing so would ruin him. Acknowledging the monster would just allow it to devour him. So he didn't.

Instead, Arthur counted the number of black spots that flashed before his eyes. 1, 2, 3, 5, 7. 8. 97. 23. 54…

The doorbell rang. It was a loud, jarring sound that Arthur hated. Clapping his hands over his ears, he screamed hysterically. The doorbell rang again, mocking him.

"Shut up!" Arthur moaned, seeing red spots along with black. The door bell rang once more, then stopped.

A second later, the door opened and Arthur heard footsteps in the house. He heard someone coming up the stairs. He didn't move from under the covers.

Someone was at his bedroom door. "Arthur?" Francis asked curiously. The second time he asked, it was a little panicked. "_Arthur_?"

Arthur reluctantly poked his face out from under the covers, keeping everything else hidden. Half of the blanket covered his face. The room was filled with so much light he had to squint. Arthur's headache intensified. "Hi." Arthur said quietly.

"What's wrong?" Francis said, his eyes wide.

"C-Could you close the blinds?" Arthur pleaded. Francis obliged, his eyes never once leaving Arthur's face. "Thanks." Arthur said, relieved. It was much darker now. He could see.

"Are you…ready?" Francis asked.

"I just woke up." Arthur said. That was a lie. He had been up all night, trapped inside his own mind and that world of color.

Francis shook his head. "Come out from under there."

"I don't want to." Arthur replied stubbornly.

"Come on. You need to get up. Nobody's seen you in at least a week. We're all really worried…" Francis pled.

"No thanks." Arthur said. He wondered why the hell he had even agreed last night. Those god damn pills.

"Get up." Francis' voice became stern. It was even borderline harsh. His appearance contrasted, though, as there was a pained expression on his face.

"No." Arthur replied just as coldly.

"Arthur!" Francis snapped.

Arthur slowly eased his way out of bed, allowing the covers to fall off of him and onto the floor. He crossed his arms over his chest, irritated.

Francis froze. "_Mon dieu. _Arthur! What the hell?" He rushed over and stared at Arthur. "You – You're so skinny!"

"No I'm not." Arthur replied.

"I can nearly wrap my _index and thumb _around your freaking forearm! You're as thin as a twig!" Francis cried. He gently probed Arthur's arm.

Arthur lifted up his shirt, revealing the two revolting bubbles of fat. "See. That's fat." He said tonelessly.

Arthur watched as all the color drained out of Francis' face. He grabbed Arthur by his shoulders and stared at him with wild purple eyes. "No. It's not. Those are your ribs! What's wrong with you?"

Arthur didn't respond. He stared at him with indifference.

"Please, please just tell me what's going on. You – you look like you haven't eaten or slept in days, there are scratches on your arms…and… and I…I'm your friend. Please, just let me know what's wrong and I can help you through it, okay?" Francis begged. Something wet glimmered in his eyes.

Arthur ducked out from under Francis and walked over to the bathroom. "I'll be right back." He muttered, shutting the door behind him. Once in the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were bigger than usual, sunken in, the pupils slightly dilated. His eyes were framed with circles so dark, they were nearly purple. His face was a pale, chalky white. He inspected his arm and found several long cuts on his arm. Some were still puffy. He didn't remember doing any of that. If Arthur stood still, he noticed that his frame was shaking slightly, his eyelids twitching, and the corner of his mouth spasmed occasionally. _Whatever. _Arthur thought, rolling his eyes. It didn't matter. Francis was just overreacting.

But Arthur did feel very tired. _Not gonna sleep. I can't sleep. _He pulled out the familiar pill bottle and managed to open it. He took one pill and swallowed it dry. If Francis was here, he couldn't go into the bright world. He just needed to stay awake.

Arthur exited the bathroom. Francis was sitting on the bed, head buried in his hands. Once Arthur came out, he looked up. His expression was weary, but not as sad as it had been.

"_Mon ami…_ You're coming with me today. That's nonnegotiable. You need to come and see what…you've been missing. Then after that…I'm going to get you some help." Francis said.

"Screw you." Arthur replied viciously.

"Even if it's just helping you around the house, I'm going to help you. You're my friend. If I need to take you to a doctor, I swear to God I will. I'm not letting you waste away Arthur, I'm _not_." Francis replied, his eyes alight with purple fire. "Do you understand?"

Arthur swallowed. _Lie. _He thought. "Yes." It was so much easier to lie. There was less arguing. "I understand." _Now I'm the liar._ He thought, a bit sullen.

_But you're the biggest liar of all, aren't you? _Arthur thought, glancing up at the ceiling. He suddenly felt like he had been run through with a knife, and he bent over slightly. Pain raced through his body. The torture was so great he felt as though he would explode.

"Hey." Francis stood suddenly, looking ready to run over and catch him.

Arthur straightened up, careful to keep the agony off of his face. "I'm fine."

"We need to get you to eat something, oui?" Francis' voice was a little shaky. "I'll go make something."

"Okay."

"You get dressed, now." Francis replied, a sad smile on his face.

"Okay." Arthur repeated. He waited until Francis left, then he closed the door and slipped off his shirt. He couldn't care less about his clothes, he couldn't care less about anything, but nonetheless he chose a black striped shirt and black pants. They were both baggy enough to hide his 'skinny' figure. He couldn't do anything about his puffy eyes. _Whatever. _Arthur thought again, chewing on his lip once more. He ran a hand through his unbrushed hair, went and brushed his teeth, splashed his face with water, and, after staring blankly at the wall for a good ten minutes more, went downstairs.

_How long has it been since I've been down here? _Arthur wondered. He couldn't even remember leaving his bedroom in the past week. Not that it mattered.

A foreign smell entered his nose. It was eggs and bacon. Arthur wrinkled his nose a little. Then he sat down at the table and put his forehead on its cool surface.

Hearing him enter, Francis glanced over. "You look so much better!" He said happily.

Arthur mentally rolled his eyes. "Yeah." Was all he said, his voice muffled by his arms.

Five minutes went by, and a nice hot plate of food was placed in front of him. "Dig in." Francis said. It was obvious that he was trying to keep a straight face. His smile kept slipping off, and the worried look in his eyes couldn't be erased.

Arthur stared at the plate. He wasn't hungry in the least.

Francis' face continued to look hopeful.

Arthur slowly put a piece of bacon in between his teeth and took a tiny crumb off. He chewed the little morsel for as long as possible before swallowing. Then he took a scrape of yellow yolk off the eggs and ate that, again chewing slowly. And then Arthur drank a tiny sip of milk. He repeated this process about five times before stopping. A quarter of the bacon was gone and his egg had about the same amount eaten from it. The glass of milk was halfway done. It had taken twenty five minutes for him to eat that much. He swallowed and pushed his plate away from him. He was finished.

Francis' smile was even fainter than before. "Okay, well, you don't have to eat it all at once."

"I'm just not hungry. Sorry." Arthur replied, his dead mind reflected in his tone.

"It's fine." Francis reluctantly took the plate. "So shall we get going?"

Arthur literally shuddered at the thought of going outside. It was an unexpected reaction that caught him off guard. He shuddered again, wrapping his arms tightly around him. His heart beat _thump-thump-thump_, as fast as a racecar. As fast as a cheetah. As fast as it had taken for Alfred to die. He could scarcely breathe. He was having a panic attack.

"Hold on a sec." Francis said urgently, walking over and placing his hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur flinched away, his breathing ragged. "Calm down." Francis murmured, his voice soothing. "Calm down, okay?"

"Aah…ah…ahh…" Arthur stammered, shaking his head over and over. "No. No! I don't want to…"

"It'll be okay. Just calm down." Francis repeated. Arthur exhaled and weakly shook his head again. His breathing slowed. "Are you good?" Francis asked.

"U-uh-huh. I- I just…" Arthur swallowed.

"It'll be fine, all right? Don't worry." Francis said.

Arthur stood up and allowed Francis to lead him to the awaiting car. His eyes were trained on the ground the entire time. He got into the passenger and sat down in its plush seats. He couldn't relax.

_I don't want to go. I don't want to. I don't! Please! _Arthur closed his eyes and allowed the rocking motion of the car to soothe him. He felt himself starting to drift again.

**Please rate and review! Feedback is always nice :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry Chapter 3 is late! T.T I'm such a procrastinator... Anyway, if you get confused at any part, please let me know!**

_Arthur was waiting by the phone. After a brief moment of hesitation, he picked it up and dialed the familiar number. It completely skipped the ringing and the voice mail and hung up on him. It was four days after the event, the one that sent terror darting through his nerves every time he thought about it. He didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it. But he couldn't reach anyone. Alfred hadn't called back, and he had no way to reach the military branch that he was stationed at. And Alfred's parents weren't answering either._

_He stared at the phone in his hands, tears spilling over his eyes. "Damn it. C'mon, just pick up. Please! Please!" He sobbed again. He felt so blind. Nobody was telling him anything. Alfred's parents were all the way on the other side of the United States, near California, so he couldn't just get up and drive there. But he was nearly to the point of doing just that. _

_Instead, he tried calling again._

_This lasted for an entire month. For one horrifying month, he had received no word about anything. He called every hour, pleading with them on the times the voice mail picked up, cursing every time it didn't. _

_Then, finally, a month and two days after that fateful phone call, someone called him back. And his horrors began anew. _

They drove down the road for ten minutes before stopping at a familiar apartment complex. Arthur felt like throwing up once he saw who was waiting by the sidewalk. Matthew. Alfred's brother.

Matthew got into the seat behind Francis. He offered a tentative but genuine smile at Arthur. Arthur swallowed and grimaced back.

"Hi." Matthew said.

"Hi." Arthur whispered, refusing to look at the boy who looked just like Alfred.

"Hello _Mathieu_." Francis replied, a bit of forced cheer in his voice.

"Hey Francis." Matthew smiled. "So…" He said with a sigh. "How is everybody?"

"I'm okay. I've been better." Francis sighed.

Arthur didn't respond. He stared out the window instead. He was painfully aware of Matthew sitting less than three feet away from him. He refused to look over, refused to acknowledge the tumor that would bring his downfall. In his state of mind, he knew, as surely as he knew that he was Arthur Kirkland, that if he looked over, he wouldn't see Matthew. He would see Alfred. And if he saw Alfred, or even thought he saw Alfred, he would completely lose what little sanity he had left. So he stared pointedly out the window, completely ignoring the brother of his deceased boyfriend.

Matthew didn't seem to mind, or if he did he hid it well. "Yes. I know what you mean." He said with a sigh. "How has it been three years?"

"I don't know." Francis said. Arthur felt eyes on him and realized that both of them were probably staring at him. He ignored them.

"I miss him." Matthew said quietly. "So very much."

"Me too." Francis said. The car fell blissfully silent. Arthur wanted to smash his head against the window until it bled and bled. He wanted to open the door and jump out and get away from these two. If he broke his arm in the process then so be it. His anxiety level was high, not quite extreme, but far from calm.

He jiggled his leg nervously. Ah, he just wanted to get out of there. He wanted to go back to his safe, dark room. He should have taken another pill. Damn.

"Is something the matter?" Matthew's voice intruded into Arthur's thoughts. His voice was quiet and horrifyingly kind. Arthur stiffened.

"No. It's nothing." He muttered. The car was silent once again for a few more blissful seconds. It rolled to a stop in front of the cemetery. Arthur kept his eyes on his lap. He felt a hand brush against his shoulder.

"It'll be okay." He heard a soft voice murmur. Arthur didn't move, pretended that voice didn't even exist. Arthur pretended the hand on his shoulder was just another one of his deluded hallucinations. It wouldn't work. He knew whose hand that was, and he couldn't pretend it wasn't there. He shrugged his shoulder, causing Matthew's hand to slide off. Arthur opened the door and got out of the car. After a second, he heard Matthew get out of the car too.

"Who all is here?" Matthew asked, speaking to Francis.

"I think Ludwig, Feliciano and Honda are here already. The others should be coming soon." Francis replied.

_Thump-thump-thump _went Arthur's heart. Oh God, how many people would be there? How many were coming? He leaned against the car and clenched his fists. Why didn't he take another pill?! Even just one more would have sent him into happy-land instead of being trapped in this insane hell! He would have been able to face Alfred's grave with a smile, instead of wishing he could crawl in the coffin beside him. Why was he so stupid? Arthur closed his eyes, then opened them, squinting at the harsh, bright sky. That sky made him feel sick. He didn't want to be here at all. Why the hell did he come? Why?!

"C'mon, Arthur." Matthew said.

Arthur followed them with his head down. He stared at his shadow on the pavement. What was Francis talking about? He was positively huge, not skinny. They moved into the grass. Three years ago, the grass had been green and lush and glowing with life. Now it was yellowing, the stalks brittle, brown dirt visible beneath. It was dying a slow, agonizing death, and had lived a cruel, unbearable life; trapped between the anguished feet of the living and the macabre corpses below. Cemetery grass really did have a difficult life. Arthur felt bad for it for a moment, before reminding his ruined mind that it was only grass. Grass didn't care about such things.

Arthur made the mistake of looking up. He saw Matthew staring right at him. His eyes were a more oceanic blue than Alfred's, but they were still the same shape. The face was the same shape as Alfred's. The hair was the same color. The smile was the nearly the same, kind and caring, with a faint tilt on the right side. If one didn't look at the eyes, and the length of the hair, one would almost think that it _was _Alfred. Caught completely off guard, Arthur stumbled, and when he came back he was entangled in his memories once more.

_The phone rang. After one month and two days of hearing nothing, it rang. Arthur was in the kitchen, struggling to make a batch of scones, when he heard it. For a second he thought he was just hearing things. His mind was playing tricks on him. It wouldn't have surprised him, as phone calls haunted his dreams constantly, and in his waking hours his mind was so on edge the slightest sound could be misinterpreted as the ringing of a phone, the call he so desperately needed, but dreaded, to hear…_

_But no. The phone rang again, causing Arthur to drop the pan on the floor. The blackened pastries were crushed underneath his feet as he sprinted over and picked up the phone. _

_"H-Hello?" He gasped, praying it wasn't just another false hope, yet at the same time praying that it was._

_"Is this Arthur?" A quiet voice on the other end asked._

_Arthur literally felt the color drain out of his face. It was Matthew. But if Alfred's brother was calling, then…then where was Alfred? No, no. It couldn't be true. Please, God, don't let it be true. "Yes, this is Arthur." Arthur replied._

_"Oh." The other end was silent, hesitant. This did not help Arthur's nerves any. Matthew spoke again. "I wanted to see if you were taking things okay. I know we haven't talked since before Alfred's…since before he – he died, but –"_

_"Alfred died?" Arthur whispered. It was like someone had killed him in a thousand different ways. He couldn't move. He could barely think coherently. "He's dead?" Arthur sank slowly to the floor, his entire body numb._

_Matthew was silent for a long time. "I…" He started, his voice shaky. "I – I thought you knew." _

_Arthur closed his eyes, his shaking hands barely able to hold the phone up to his ear. He had known, deep down, but he didn't want to accept it. He couldn't accept it. And now, after an entire bloody month…someone was finally telling him._

_"I-I thought they told you. My p-parents. They…" Matthew continued._

_Arthur cut him off. "Don't lie." Rage poured into his body. Everything was coated red. "Don't fucking lie to me. You knew nobody told me. You _knew _I was kept in the bloody dark for a whole damn month! Don't you dare lie to me!" Arthur yelled. _

_"I had no idea, Arthur! I swear! I thought mom or dad told you –"_

_"You knew they didn't tell me!"_

_"Why wouldn't they have told you?" Matthew shot back, his voice more panicked then angry._

_"Because they're homophobes! They hated me – they always have! They thought I fucked up their son! They thought I made him that way and they could never stand it! They didn't tell me because they didn't think a 'fag' like me had a heart at all! They didn't think I deserved to know what the hell was going on! Of course nobody told me, you idiot!" Arthur screamed. His rage made it difficult to see, difficult to hear. His heart thrummed angrily in his chest. He wanted to go over and kill the three of them. _

_"I-I…they…" Matthew could scarcely speak. _

_"And why the hell wouldn't I have come over? Let's just say they did tell me. Why in God's name wouldn't I have come over?! My boyfriend is dead – why wouldn't I have come over? I missed the funeral, didn't I? Why would I have missed that, huh?!" _

_"…I thought that you were mad at them." Matthew whispered. "I thought that, since they supported Alfred's going to the army, that you were mad at them. I should have known they had never told you." Arthur heard sobs on the other end. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I am so, so sorry!" _

_"Those bastards…" Arthur growled. He wanted to say more but found he couldn't. The anger was quickly being replaced with an unbearable sadness. "Those god damn bastards." He sobbed, feeling tears pour out of his eyes. He wasn't mad at Alfred's parents – well, he was, he didn't think he could ever forgive them for that – he was just sad. There was a huge ache in his chest, and the weight of infinite loss had settled over him. "Al…" He sniffled. "Alfred. Shit!" Arthur swore, breaking down completely. Tears blurred his vision, and his lungs felt as though they were about to collapse from the tightness in his chest. _

_"I'm sorry, Arthur…" Matthew repeated, over and over. It was several minutes before Arthur could respond._

_"I-It's okay. It's not your fault. M'kay? I- I just can't believe that he's gone. He can't be dead! He can't! Not Alfred…not him!" Arthur swallowed._

_"I know. I don't want to believe it, either. B-but…" Matthew let out another sob._

_Arthur inhaled, his breath rattling in his throat. "I don't blame you. I-I'll be fine. I will." He couldn't talk anymore. He didn't want to be here anymore. "I'll call you back later, okay?"_

_Matthew seemed surprised by the abrupt stop. "Are you sure?"_

_"Yeah. I just need to think. I need to be alone." Arthur whispered._

_"Okay. Please call back later. Or I will." Matthew stammered._

_"I will." Arthur replied. He said his goodbyes and then hung up. His mind was a chaotic wreck filled with sadness, anger and complete emptiness. He went back into the kitchen. Arthur's thoughts zipped around his brain, his eyes darting around as often as his thoughts changed. Finally, his eyes landed on an unopened case of alcohol. _

_He drank until he couldn't think anymore. _


End file.
